


Your Fight is Our Fight

by pretzelduck



Category: All Elite Wrestling, Professional Wrestling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Mentions of Violence, Protective Darby, Strong Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:08:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27202261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pretzelduck/pseuds/pretzelduck
Summary: His head had been spinning and it had been almost impossible to focus but then there had been a startled shout and a sound he knew.  A sound that had brought a smile to his bloodied face.The sound of a skateboard impacting human flesh.Darby Allin had come to his rescue like he was a knight and Mox was a maiden and maybe he had taken too many shots to the head if he was making those kinds of comparisons.
Relationships: Dean Ambrose | Jon Moxley/Darby Allin
Comments: 10
Kudos: 42





	Your Fight is Our Fight

**Author's Note:**

> Moxley repeatedly getting beaten up by Eddie Kingston and his family has been bugging me so I decided to take a slight Mox/Darby detour from the storyline and write this. :)

Well, that fucking sucked.

Mox was getting tired of dealing with Eddie Kingston and his so-called family. Too many times he'd ended up drooling and battered in the middle of the ring. One brawl after another and it was getting old. The trials and tribulations of being champion; someone and everyone was always gunning for your head. He liked fighting - blood and violence were his things - but the one-sided nature of these damn beatdowns was exhausting.

Previously one-sided nature, anyway.

He'd gotten jumped again. Surrounded and outnumbered again. Being held up again so the Blade could slam a chair down on his fucking head - at least that part was new. The moment was both fuzzy and crystal clear to Mox. His head had been spinning and it had been almost impossible to focus but then there had been a startled shout and a sound he knew. A sound that had brought a smile to his bloodied face.

The sound of a skateboard impacting human flesh.

Darby Allin had come to his rescue like he was a knight and Mox was a maiden and maybe he had taken too many shots to the head if he was making those kinds of comparisons. 

They had cleaned house after that. Mox had surged to his feet - rejuvenated and pissed off - and thrown haymakers at the closest target. Darby had been his usual quick and violent self and between the two of them, they had sent Eddie and the rest of them scrambling away. It shouldn't have been enough but Darby had been angrier than Mox had ever seen him. There had been something glorious about it, even though his haze of pain. Every strike vicious, every swing of that damn skateboard brutal. And despite how shitty he felt, Mox had enjoyed every second of it.

Just as much as he was enjoying what was happening right now.

Because right now, he and Darby were seated side-by-side on a crappy wooden bench, barely an inch between them. It was… nice to have someone next to him. Someone stupid enough and gutsy enough to get between him and another Eddie Kingston beatdown. Asking Darby to have his back had been on the tip of his tongue the past few weeks but Mox had refused to say the words. He could handle it - had handled worse - but that wasn't the main reason that he had hesitated. With a single request, Darby would have been there and Mox _knew_ that. He believed that, as uncomfortable and as unusual as that was. But then Darby would have had a giant bullseye painted on his back. A target for Kingston and his family. The _fact_ that helping him would have gotten Darby hurt had kept him from saying anything.

But it seemed Darby hadn't even needed to be asked.

And Mox knew he should be furious right now. Darby Allin was in the thick of his own damn mess with Team Taz and now Kingston was going to be gunning for him too. And for what? For him? He should be threatening or insulting Darby. Pushing him off the bench, telling him to stay out of his business, something. Anything other than being a little happy that he wasn't sitting here again by himself.

They were waiting to get checked out by medical. Apparently, the damage they'd caused was higher up on the triage priority list and Mox was more than a little proud of that. Too bad the pounding in his head was so fucking loud and painful because it was taking the joy out of that particular bit. Other than that, this was almost relaxing. He was leaning back against the wall while Darby was hunched over, rubbing at his reddened chest. Mox had a semi-vague memory of Penta chopping him hard enough to knock him down, only for Darby to kick him in the kneecap. That had been great. 

Although, at the moment, it would be great if he could keep his eyes open for more than a second or two at time. A nudge against his arm made his eyes shoot open only to find a water bottle being waved in front of his face.

"Take it." Mox grabbed the water bottle and took a drink while Darby stared at him and rolled his eyes. "Getting choked out like that makes your throat hurt, dumbass."

"I noticed."

Unfortunately, he'd had a lot of familiarity with the experience at this point.

"The water will help. Finish the bottle."

And Darby had a good point about that. It was only slightly annoying.

"Aren't you the last person that should be giving out medical advice?"

"Fuck off, asshole." Mox had to suppress a chuckle. There was just something amusing about Darby's prickliness. "Next time, I'll let them keep beating you up."

"No, you won't."

The words were out of his mouth before he realized that he was going to say them but there wasn't a single lie in them. Mox knew that it was odd that he believed that. Had that sort of faith. But now that Darby had decided that Mox's problem with Kingston and his family was his problem too, the persistent bastard was going to be out there launching himself like a human missile whenever the opportunity presented itself. And it was going to be so much fun.

"Damn." Darby sat up and let his head fall backwards until they were in almost identical positions. "You're right." There was the smallest of smiles on that half-painted face. "I hate that."

That little smile didn't look completely out of place on Darby's face and Mox tried not to think about how much he liked it. His head hurt too much to be thinking thoughts like that right now. He knew that he should be thanking Darby for coming to his aid but a simple 'thank you' didn't quite seem like enough. Darby had no reason to intervene other than to help him. They were both loners but sitting here, Mox was glad to not be alone. But the acknowledgement - the understanding - that this was _their_ fight now? It was actually kinda sweet and something bordering on touching. 

Definitely too many shots to the head.

"You didn't come out with your entrance music."

That was certainly not a 'thank you'. It had caught his attention, though. Every time he'd seen Darby do a run-in, he always announced his arrival with his music. But not this time. There had to be a reason for that but it was probably a little rude to ask. However, all Darby did was scoff and roll his eyes at him again.

"It was taking too long to queue up." A single eyebrow rose up. "And you were getting your ass kicked."

"I had everything under control."

He hadn't and Mox knew that but the look Darby gave him as soon as the words left his mouth was too enjoyable to pass up. Skepticism and amusement all wrapped up together in a slight tilt of his head and quirk of his lips. He liked Darby's bluntness - there was no bullshit with him - but this hint of humor and kindness might be something he liked more. 

"Your face was redder than a fucking tomato."

Mox finished the bottle of water and chucked it in the general direction of the nearest trash can. It bounced off the side with a clang and rolled down the hallway. The sound of it was drowned out by the barely audible chuckling from the man next to him. There was a part of him - the tired and cranky part - that was irritated that Darby was laughing at him. But mainly, that ever-so-rare sound just made him a little bit happier. Even if any sort of noise made his headache that much worse right now.

"I think you missed."

Mox grunted in response as he let his eyes shut again. Keeping them open was fucking exhausting and probably more difficult than it should be. Too many beatdowns. He couldn't remember the last time that he had been this tired. All he needed to do was get looked at so he could get out of here but then he would no longer be sitting with Darby. Strangely, he wasn't sure how he felt about that. Maybe he would come along if Mox asked him. Doubtful but maybe.

The doctors were taking too damn long. He was as much slumped against the wall as he was sitting on the bench. Time was passing slowly and his head wouldn't stop aching. It was becoming harder and harder to focus and think straight. He was going to be fine - Mox knew his body well enough to know that - but right now, he felt like shit.

"Mox?" 

There was a weird little pause in the quiet way Darby said his name that seemed like worry to Mox and he wasn't quite sure what to do with that. So he opened his eyes, looked over at Darby, and tried to focus on what he was seeing. That was definitely concern on that face - not that Mox thought he'd ever seen Darby look like that before - and it had been awhile since anyone had looked at him with that kind of expression. Another thing that he didn't know what to do with. 

"Does this mean now I can punch that punk bitch without pissing you off?"

And this probably wasn't the best time to ask that particular question. It was just that he really wanted to punch Ricky Starks. There were a lot of reasons for that - he had a pretty punchable face - but it mainly came down to hating seeing him hurt Darby. That was a fucking sappy and slightly foolish reason but it was the truth. Watching the thumbtacks in the body bag stunt he and Cage had pulled at All Out had been infuriating; pacing up and down the hallway and punching the first wall he saw had probably been a bit much, though.

No matter how much he despised seeing it, Mox had stayed out of Darby's neverending feud with Team Taz. It was Darby's fight - or at least, that had been what he had kept telling himself. He didn't exactly want to stick his nose into Darby's business when it was unwanted. The urge to step in - to have his back - had been fucking strong and there had been more than one occasion where it was only his own damn stubbornness that had kept him backstage. There had been this tiny little hope in the back of Mox's mind that maybe Darby would ask him to help. That he would show that sort of trust in him. Because then there would have been no risk of his intervention being unwelcome. Of causing more harm than good. Of Darby misinterpreting the reasons behind his presence - thinking that Mox felt he couldn't take care of himself. 

It definitely wasn't that. It was much _more_ than that.

Mox should've known better and he was mad at himself for that. Darby was as stubborn as he was. There had never been any chance of him asking. He should have just done _something_. Why hadn't he just gone out there and defended Darby - consequences be damned?

Why hadn't he done what Darby had done?

"I can handle Starks." 

Mox tried and failed to not be pleased that Darby knew exactly who the 'punk bitch' was. He waited for him to continue - to welcome his help. A statement that his fight was _their_ fight too. But nothing else was said. With an expression on his face that Mox couldn't quite read, Darby looked away - his gaze pointed in the general direction of the ceiling - and after a few seconds, he closed his eyes.

Suddenly, the inch or two between them felt so much larger than that and for the first time, Mox was tempted to walk away. A moment that had been, honestly, relaxing and nice was now distinctly uncomfortable. Darby had shut things down - pushed him away - with a single sentence and a simple motion. He felt wrong-footed, like he had made a mistake somewhere along the way. Was Darby offended at him wanting to help with his problem with Starks? Or was he offended that he hadn't done anything until now?

"Did you want my help?"

"Maybe."

Darby still wasn't looking at him and Mox could barely hear the single word; however, it was enough of an answer for him. His headache was probably too much of a distraction for this sort of discussion but he almost _needed_ Darby to know.

"I wanted yours."

That was apparently all it took to make Darby look at him again. And there was a smile on that face that Mox had never seen before. He would call it 'soft' if the word wouldn't have sent Darby jumping off another bridge. Just thinking it made Mox a little antsy. But that's what it was.

"Yeah?" Yet another eye roll and Mox could only admit that he found it endearing for some reason. "You could've just asked, dumbass."

"You could've too."

Darby's head tilted slightly away from him but his eyes remained open. Mox was oddly glad that the side nearest him was the unpainted side - he liked being able to see those tiny changes in his expression just a little bit more clearly.

"Wasn't sure if we were that sort of…"

His already quiet voice trailed off but Mox was pretty sure that he had an idea of what Darby was trying to say.

"We are." And that… soft… smile was back and once again aimed at him in full force. The gentle strength in it almost drew Mox's next words out. "I should have had your back."

It was probably going to bother him for some time that he had done nothing while Darby had been one to come to the rescue - to take the risk - but there wasn't much he could do about it now. All Mox could do was promise himself that he would do better. That he would be there and stop hesitating to ask Darby to stand at his side as well. Neither of them _needed_ the help - not really. You didn't get into this business expecting anyone to ever watch your back. It just didn't work that way. But there was _something_ there between him and Darby. It felt like something that could be relied on and built upon. Mox could feel the smile on his own face and knew it probably looked as soft as the one on Darby's did.

"I guess that means you can punch Starks too." The little bit of laughter in Darby's eyes somehow made them seem even bluer. "I still get first dibs, though."

"Deal."

Mox extended his hand closest to Darby in a sort of pantomime of a handshake. With a puzzled quirk of his lips, Darby matched the motion and their fingers brushed against one another in that tiny space between them. The contact should have been brief but neither of them pulled their hand away. Instead, by unspoken mutual agreement, their hands settled against the bench in that space with their fingers just about - but not quite - intertwined.

"You should rest." Mox almost mocked Darby for being the wrong sort of person to give medical advice again but that worried look was back on his face. "I'll keep an eye out."

You didn't ever expect anyone to have your back but Mox wanted to trust Darby with his. He allowed his eyes to close and stay closed this time and his headache almost instantly appreciated the continued darkness. Time went back to passing slowly but their hands remained right where they were. Sitting there, he was almost content, despite the pounding in his head and the uncomfortable bench. There was something slightly soothing about the sensation of Darby's fingers next to his. But it also reminded Mox of the consequences of tonight. 

"They are going to come after you too now."

"Good." The venom and malice behind that single word almost made Mox feel bad for Kingston. Almost. "It'll be fun."

Mox didn't know what to say to that so he turned his hand just enough so he could twine a couple of their fingers together. For a moment, he worried that it was too much and waited for Darby to wrench his hand away. But after only a heartbeat or two, there was the barest increase in pressure as Darby tightened their grasp. 

They might be loners but they weren't alone.

-fin-


End file.
